


The Prince and the Rogue

by Weatherwax



Series: Dragonkin [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Awkward Romance, Bigotry & Prejudice, Blood and Violence, Class Differences, Dragonkin sidefic, Explicit Sexual Content, Gay Sex, Idiots in Love, M/M, Slash, big burly men, discrimination based on hair color
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2018-01-17
Packaged: 2018-10-31 23:02:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10909257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Weatherwax/pseuds/Weatherwax
Summary: This story can be read as a standalone work, it's both a sidefic and a sort of prequel for my work in progress Dragonkin.Love story between thugs.Ok one of them is a prince; a noble-born, less ragged sort of thug, but a thug, nonetheless.





	1. Pursuit

He watched quietly from under a shady awning in the alley as the group passed by the lit street, laughing and cheering despite their weary stances, the tallest among them limping, partially supported by a gruffy-looking woman in chainmail armor.

The tall man turned his head briefly, and for a moment he thought his green eyes could see him despite the darkness, and his breath hitched. The man looked down at his companions though, and laughed, shaking his red locks before looking forward again.

“I’ faith ye’ll be the death o’ me,” Drugum muttered, before climbing the wall.

* * *

 

 

“So did you see them yet?”

Taenth put on his best innocent face.

“Who?”

The Black mage poked him in the ribs, and he yelped.

“Your admirer, fool. I saw you looking beyond Greter as we walked!” Venia tittered, and Greter of the Red nodded behind her mug of ale.

“No,” he muttered. “Not today.”

The two women squealed.

“So ye did see them!” Greter said, leaning forward.

“Once, yes. By chance I saw their shadow, and that only because they’re, well…”

“Well?” the women said at the same time, and Fenric of the White scowled at them.

“Tall,” Taenth said, and they gasped in unison, hugging their own bosoms.

“Wait a minute,” Venia said, raising her left hand. “Nobody is ‘tall’ next to you, Taenth.”

Taenth laughed, and took a swig of his grog.

“They are next to you,” he said, and Greter cackled as Venia squinted dangerously at him.

“Well, whoever she is, she’s not a Red,” Fenric said, unamused. “Hence, she is not worthy of your time. Tis bad enough the more distant relatives have to resort to mixing up the bloodlines every now and then; as the King’s son,”

“Second son, Fenric,” Taenth said wearily.

Fenric grunted. “Fair enough, second son, but still, you are to be the Red Triumvir of Emberholm. It does not do to take a wife from the other Houses, let alone,” he scoffed, “court one of the mongrels.”

Taenth looked at him from over the mug, as he drank, and stood after draining his drink.

“I think I’m done here,” he said, and fished a few coins from his pouch, waving at the women, who had pulled theirs out as well. “My treat, ladies.”

“I’ll open you a portal, tis dark and cold already,” Venia said, rising from her seat, and Taenth shook his head, smiling and ruffling her loose hair.

“I should walk back, it will be good to,” he sighed deeply, “cool off.”

“Suit yourself. Greter, we’re going, get your arse off the seat.”

“You don’t have to leave just because he is going,” Fenric said as Greter and Venia gathered their satchels.

“Oh, I believe we do, milord. Woe be unto me if you were seen with other women than those of your esteemed clan,” Venia growled, and stalked away, Greter at her heels.

* * *

 

Taenth limped slowly, his hands deep in the pockets of his coat. Unlike Greter he didn’t use chainmail or plate for travel. His seven feet tall frame and broad, muscular build kept away any human bandits who weren’t dissuaded by his striking red hair.

At nineteen he had been done with the University and ready to assume his position as Red Triumvir for a year already, but, like Venia the Black, he waited for his predecessor’s retirement at ease, enjoying the last careless days of his youth running missions with younger students.

He knew that even – luckily - being the second son of the Red king he couldn’t escape a long list of royal obligations, so he fiercely hoarded the freedom he still had.

He sighed, shaking his head as he plod through Wizard Road in the direction of Murder Square and stalked past the blacksmith, giving a cursory look to Barley Lane across the road before moving on.

As he passed Lily Row a muffled thump sounded, like a cat or another small animal jumping on the roofs above, and Taenth smirked. He would easily reach the University staying on the road leading to it, but he made a sharp turn left at the next crossroad and ambled down Ebon Avenue instead.

He could feel his heartbeat quickening, the pain from the freshly healed knee forgotten, and the hair at his nape stood on end as he felt watched again after but a couple of seconds. Only one person could be bold enough to stalk him, the same whose shadow he had caught for a fleeting moment, months ago.

Perhaps emboldened by his anger at Fenric’s words, he decided to duck into Sinister Alley at his right, right before one of Emberholm’s granaries. From there to Murder Square it was a veritable maze of back alleys separating cheap houses and three-story buildings with small businesses at the ground floor and rickety apartments to let above those.

At the fourth turn Taenth heard a breath above to his right, grinned, and crossed the alley, jumping over a wooden fence with the ease given by warmed muscles and running across the yard.

On and on he weaved through the alleys hoping to tire his pursuer enough that they’d make a mistake.

At a turn, he saw a large backyard with a shed at a corner near a low fence, a few yards away from a low-roofed house. He ran to the house and ducked to hide in the small porch, and took off his coat while he waited.

Soon enough he felt dust hit his face from the roof. He heaved a deep breath, moved out of the awning and jumped in a twirl, throwing the coat as hard as he could over the roof and running to the shed, gluing his back to the farthest face from the house and wheezing a soundless laugh at the whispered cursing he had heard while running.

“Bloody idiot will freeze to death and it will be all me fault,” Drugum muttered as he fought with the enormous coat. He looked around and, feeling his face hot from more than the physical exertion, brought the coat to his face, smelling it.

He felt an impulse to run away with the coat and keep it, but quenched it. It was near the middle of autumn, the nights were almost frosty this close to the North Sea already, and as infuriating as Taenth could be it wasn’t Drugum’s intention to kill him.

He dropped from the roof as quietly as he could, walked quietly as he folded the coat over his left arm, and at the exact moment he raised his head to look forward again a huge fist came against his face, knocking him up and backwards in a beautiful arch before he hit the ground and rolled away, holding his face.

“Bloody hell, ye broke me nose!” he growled as he got up, wavering.

“Ah, dear me, maybe I should’ve waited for you to knife me in the back then?”

Drugum gave him an as haughtily offended look as he could muster, given the circumstances.

“I wasn’ bout to do that, an’ if I were ye’d been rotting a long time ago!”

Taenth raised an eyebrow and took in the large figure in front of him. The man was tall, among the closest to his size as he had ever seen – which probably got him about six feet four inches, still a whole head shorter than him – and almost as heavily built, too, clothed in old, heavily worn but clean, serviceable dark leathers, the hilt of a dagger protruding from each low-cut boot, a pouch strapped to his right thigh and a flat cap covering his short hair and good looking but almost brutish features, made more so by the blood running from his wide nose.

“You’re an Outcast,” Taenth said, walking around the Brown man, who stayed put, looking down and keeping his hands visible. “I wonder who could be so interested in me that they’d pay one of you to be their scuttlebutt?”

The Outcast scowled at him.

“Din’t nobody paid me to do nothin’, I’m here all me own,” he muttered, looking down at his own feet. “Ye should get yer coat on afore the dew soaks it. Tis monkeys out here.”

Taenth looked down at where it had fallen.

“Do you really want me to believe you’re so concerned about me getting cold you were going to return my coat?”

The man fumbled, visibly blushing under the moonlight, and scowling.

“Catch me doing people favors again,” he muttered in embarrassment, and Taenth stepped into his personal space before crouching to pick up the coat, keeping his eyes on him as he moved.

The man’s breath hitched, and his eyes blinked slowly as Taenth stood close enough that his outstretched hands brushed against him. Taenth put his coat on deliberately slowly, green eyes locked with brown ones.

He pulled a handkerchief out of his inner coat pocket and spit on it, before cleaning the man’s bloody nose.

“Well then, mister?” he asked, and felt a thrilling shiver run through his body as the man visibly swallowed.

“Duh-Drugum. Of the Forsaken, uh… milord.”

Taenth smirked, and let his beard brush against Drugum’s cheek.

“I would have you tell me why you were following me, mister Drugum of the Forsaken,” Taenth the Red said into his ear, and Drugum had to use all his hard-learned discipline to keep from creaming his trousers right there and then, broken nose and embarrassment at being caught be damned.

“But not here,” Taenth continued, taking a step back. “Tis really monkeys out here, and my quarters at the University are much warmer. Follow me,” he commanded, and Drugum blinked at him in astonishment.

“Come on, Drugum of the Forsaken. We’ll take the student’s entrance,” he said, and turned away, walking as if he had not a bother in the world.

Drugum tried to find a reason not to do it, but found his mind full of musky, warm-scented, horny cotton, so he followed.


	2. Claim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pretty much just a long piece of smut I'm afraid.

Drugum was used to posh places; most of the people interested in acquiring the services provided by the Forsaken, Dragonkin or not, had money – not that they paid a lot for said services; since the Forsaken were Outcasts and nobody would employ one of them to do anything respectable to save their lives, and thieving, kidnapping and assassination jobs were few and far between, the Outcast clans couldn’t very much name their own price if they wanted to survive – and so did their victims, and anyway he had snuck into University grounds to watch Taenth before.

He had never been to a building quite as grand as the main University one as a _guest_ , though, and the out-of-place feeling made him take off his cap and hold it in both hands in sheepish respect as he followed Taenth through the corridors.

Taenth in turn would sometimes steal a glance at him and force himself to hold back a smile. Drugum trod as hidden in the shadows as he could, with careful steps, and to Taenth he looked like a scared fox: intelligent, smart, cheeky, but wary of novelties.

It was easier to see his face now, under the torchlight. His hair wasn’t as mousy as it seemed; a hint of copper in the brown color told of Red ancestry being prevalent in the mix that had produced him; his cheekbones were high and strong, his alert, intelligent eyes smaller than necessary to make him look cute, under strong, closely set eyebrows. His nose was somewhat big for his face, and wide, set over surprisingly full lips and a chiseled square chin.

He looked like the thug he was, and Taenth found he liked it very much.

He himself was no delicate figure: his eyes and mouth were wider and his nose more refined, but equally masculine and strong, a face to fit his size and build, the perfect image of a Red warrior, with blood red hair and dark emerald eyes to go with.

A nobler, socially acceptable thug, but a thug, nonetheless.

Taenth took care to take the emptiest corridors, lest someone see them: future Red Triumvir or not, he was still under care of the University, and the Outcast were unwelcome everywhere. It was a huge risk bringing the man here, but it was that or take him to the authorities, and Taenth knew well what that would entail to an Outcast stalking a Dragonkin, let alone him.

They reached his room by the inner courtyard, and Taenth opened the door, motioning for Drugum to get in first before sliding inside and putting up a couple of candles on the mantelpiece, one of which he used to light the fire.

Drugum looked around, unimpressed to say the least. Why did the rich have so much if they were to live like pigs? The room was a royal mess, scrolls, weapons, clothes and armor everywhere. He snorted haughtily.

“What? Don’t lads have better things to do than clean up where you live?”

Drugum looked at Taenth up and down. “Methinks the sayin’ is true, those who ain’t got nothing take better care of it than them who have everythin’.”

Taenth recoiled in sudden shame, heat flooding his face. He looked around, realizing how his ordinary room with its ordinary things may seem luxurious to someone who lived from meal to meal.

He dropped his head and started tidying up quietly.

“Ye wanted to know why I was stalking ye,” Drugum said in a very quiet tone after a couple of minutes, crouching next to him and brushing a lock of red hair behind Taenth’s ear.

 Taenth went still.

“I stalked ye because o’ this,” Drugum breathed. “Every time I see ye, I see a Kin who has no reason to heed what Browns say, but who does anyway. And it touches me, and makes me curious, and… ye’re not bad to look at,” Taenth gave him a side look, and Drugum blushed. “So I find meself too drawn to ye to back away,” he finished, looking at Taenth’s lips.

Taenth felt a shiver run through him, and closed the space between them.

The kiss was shortened by Drugum falling on his own ass in shock, and Taenth chuckled.

Drugum would never be able to remember that night entirely. All he knew is that he was on the floor in one moment, and climbing over Taenth’s huge figure the next, pushing him on the floor as they kissed hungrily, the momentum created by months of Drugum’s pining and Taenth’s fantasizing about his stalker driving them to hump each other roughly.

Drugum forced himself to stop and raised his body on his arms.

“I want ye, Red boy,” he huffed, looking down at Taenth. “But I ain’t forcing ye.”

He tried to move up, but long, strong legs crossed behind his hips and pulled him down, Taenth’s hands holding his face an inch over his own.

“Will it be a problem if I say I would like to see you try?”

Drugum had to press his eyelids close for a long moment to regain control.

“No, milord,” he breathed, his voice husky and gravelly.

Taenth pulled him down, relishing on the size, the weight of the man over him. Being seven feet tall presented a problem to him most of the time, it being that people expected him to prefer small, submissive, delicate types who didn’t present a challenge to him. It had come to a point where he couldn’t watch other more equally-sized men wrestle without envious tears coming to his eyes.

Hence, when he first saw Drugum’s shadow and quickly calculated his size, he had been both impressed by his agility and lightness of feet and wishing fervently that his interest in him was more than professional.

It was then quite understandable that he latched his mouth to Drugum’s neck like a leech whilst pulling insistently at the man’s jacket with one hand and trying to shove the other into his leather pantaloons, grabbing for the covered erection in frustration when he found the damn things were too tight for his large hand to fit into and had no visible fastenings for him to open.

“Skies above, man, how do you even get inside such tight clothing?” he huffed, pushing Drugum away and beginning to unlace his own woolen breeches.

Drugum laughed breathlessly. “Wouldn’ do to have clothes drop in me line o’ work, milord,” he said, and started undoing what Taenth realized was an intricate series of hooks that held his chest piece closed.

His broad chest was nearly hairless underneath, all trained muscle, only a bit leaner than Taenth’s own, and Taenth got up on his elbows after unlacing his own shirt, extending a hand to run his fingers through it as Drugum fiddled with the hooks holding his pantaloons up.

“There’s… so much of you,” Taenth murmured, and Drugum gave him a haughty look.

“Ye’ve got a problem wi’ that?” he asked, standing and getting his boots off before freeing himself from the last of his clothing.

“Well?” Drugum pushed on, after a few seconds watching Taenth’s stunned face. “Ye’re just gonna lie there then, all wax and no wick?”

 Taenth huffed and stood, pulling his own clothes off and setting in a fighting stance before making a come hither gesture. All wax and no wick, just because Taenth had been a little impressed that Drugum’s cock was as big as his own? Ha!

They began to circle each other, much aided by Taenth’s earlier tidying up – now _that_ was a benefit he’d take in consideration from now on.

“First one on his back loses,” Drugum growled.

Taenth nodded. “Whoever wins get to bugger the other,” he said with a savage grin.

Drugum nodded, and stretched his knuckles before crouching low, his arms opened. He seemed completely unbothered by his nakedness and by his excited state, his cock standing proudly despite the serious, calculating look on his eyes as he watched Taenth’s face.

Taenth hoped like hell they’d get a decent sweat going before one of them won just so he could lick it all off Drugum’s muscular body…

And then Drugum barreled against Taenth’s legs, throwing him up in the air and pushing  said legs up as he stood. Taenth stretched his arms and turned the fall into a cartwheel to his right, narrowly escaping defeat to his opponent’s first move and immediately throwing his huge legs under Drugum in a swiping motion, which Drugum easily and quietly jumped.

Taenth snaked his torso and moved his left hand, to end up with his legs stretched out after him as he held his entire weight on his arms.

“Nice moves, I hopes ye can hold yerself up like that with me cock up yer arse, would make a great view,” Drugum said while taking a couple of steps back and standing with his legs solidly planted on the ground, reaching for his own cock and tugging leisurely on it.

Taenth held his guard up, watching for Drugum’s next move, but the more he waited the more enticingly Drugum played with his own cock, so when he went for his sack and started rolling his balls on his other hand Taenth threw caution to the wind and rotated as he swung closer with his right elbow up. Not that he hoped to actually knock Drugum out, the man was an actual adult, quite well-preserved Outcast. But hey, who in their right mind would be in their right mind while jerking off like that? It was worth the try at least, the most Drugum would do was strafe and…

Drugum didn’t strafe. He ducked, locked his right arm on Taenth’s right shoulder and pushed it forward with all his might at the same time he _then_ strafed and swiped at his feet, dropping them both on the floor, Taenth on his back with an oof and Drugum on top of him, cradling the back of his head with his left hand and holding his own weight up on his right, which slapped against the wooden floor next to his ear.

“Say it,” Drugum demanded in a breathless voice Taenth would bet his life had nothing to do with the physical exertion and all with the hard, dripping cock he felt pressing against his own.

A drop of sweat pooled on Drugum’s lower lip, and Taenth licked it, his own cock twitching at the salty, musky taste.

“I concede,” he said, and slowly spread his legs open in defeat.

Drugum kissed Taenth’s lips before rising and moving away.

Taenth raised his head, intrigued.

“Well?” he asked, and Drugum looked at him with a frown while rummaging in his pouch.

“Well what?”

“Well aren’t you going to?”

“Of course I am ye git, what were ye thinking, I was gonna bugger ye dry or somethin’?” Drugum asked, showing the small tin in his hand, and gave Taenth a horrified look when he stammered.

 “Well I thought we were using spit like usual…”

“Ye get off on the pain or somethin’? Cause I ain’t gonna rip yer insides with only spit, milord, I ain’t fond of hurting people like that. So if ye likes that sort of thing ye better tell me now, an’ well stop right ‘ere, all right?”

Taenth watched him with his mouth open at the unexpected tirade. He tilted his head, curious.

“I don’t like being hurt. But… being hurt is part of it, isn’t it? I mean, it’s my first time on the receiving end, but that’s how I’ve been taught…”

The expression of horrified distaste on Drugum’s face was almost comical.

“Thunderin’ dragons, ye Kin are savages!” Drugum growled, affronted. “Bein’ hurt is part o’ it, good thing I won, else ye’d be without a cock to piss out of.”

“Oh well, excuse me for not knowing whatever is it you know, will you teach it to me or just stand there staring all night?” Taenth asked, standing and stepping into his space.

Drugum grabbed his nipples and pushed him against the bed, toppling them both.

“Ow! I thought you didn’t like to hurt people!”

“That ain’t hurtin’, tis just pinching,” Drugum mumbled around one of the reddened buds, before sucking on it, one leg finding its way between Taenth’s, where it started rubbing his crotch.

Taenth found that he didn’t care for having his nipples pinched, but liked the sucking, and even more the hands exploring his body. Most of the trysts he had were with boys who touched with reverence and submission, seeking to give him pleasure and deal with their own, or boys whose idea of sex resumed to the coupling of genitals in the pursue of the quickest way to climax.

Drugum was different. He did to Taenth what Taenth wanted to do to him as well: he tasted his skin, explored it with hands, lips, tongue and teeth, be it Taenth’s hairy chest, where Drugum found he was ticklish and tortured him with the discovery for a while, be it his armpits, which to Taenth’s thrilling shock were found to be incredibly sensitive, as were his neck, and ears, and the inside of his thighs.

He tasted and touched everywhere he could, and somehow he found himself holding his own legs up, moaning in pleasure at the feeling of Drugum’s thick, greasy index finger rubbing his hole.

He was entirely surprised at being breached with no pain whatsoever, and to feel pleasure at the feeling of being massaged inside.

“How… how are you doing that?” he asked, and wiggled to push the digit in further, seeking more contact.

“Ole family recipe,” Drugum answered before pushing another finger in, swallowing Taenth’s cock and thus effectively turning off Taenth’s ability to think.

He opened his eyes as he felt Drugum move over him, aligning himself, and all he could do was open his legs wide, welcoming him in with a long, deep, pleasure-filled moan as his eyes rolled up. Skies, he could definitely get used to this, he thought, but then Drugum’s cock rubbed into something deep inside him, and he lost all coherence again.

“There?” he heard from afar, and nodded, slack-jawed and panting.

How could this be possible? His other partners had always asked him to move faster, as if desperate to finish, but this slow, sedate pace was so good, everything felt delicious: the dragging of Drugum’s cock against his hole’s lips as he pushed and pulled, the rubbing against the rings of muscle inside – Taenth found that clenching when Drugum pulled enhanced the pleasure even more – the brushing against that spot deep inside.

“Ye looks like ye’re having fun,” Drugum said, and Taenth opened his eyes a bit.

“Wouldn’t… mmmmmmm you like to know,” he breathed.

“Will ye show me later then?”

Just the thought of debauching Drugum as utterly as he was being debauched made Taenth spurt precome between them.

“Yes,” he answered, and actually squealed high in pleasure as Drugum picked up the pace and hammered deep. Forget slow pace, skies above, the precise hit pushed his pleasure so high he planted his feet on the bed and pushed up to bring him deeper in.

“Tell me what you want,” Drugum whispered in his ear.

“More. Bloody hell, more!” he shouted the last, and begged to be ripped apart, the pressure was so good he thought he was going insane, if it killed him he’d die a happy man.

“Shush, eejit, people are gonna hear us!” Drugum chastised him, but laughing and speeding up, drawing even more loud noises from him.

Taenth found Drugum’s chuckles intoxicating, and pulled him close for a kiss, feeling his climax building up.

“I’m so close…” he breathed, the friction on his own cock being rubbed between their bodies increasing when Drugum moved a bit and brought them even closer.

“Cum for me, Red boy…” Drugum whispered into his ear, moving to suck on his neck, and with a few more thrusts Taenth came gloriously, in long waves that left him emptied of body and mind. He didn’t even notice if Drugum came as well, he got so spent, just that somehow they uncoupled and he was wiped down.

He grabbed the Outcast and pulled him down on the bed with him again, hugging him with arms and legs.

“Milord!”

“Taenth. You just had your cock up my arse, Drugum, we can stop with the formalities.”

“Fine, let me go then, Taenth. Tis almost morning, I have to go, things to do, places to be.”

“No, give us a cuddle,” Taenth muttered as he fell asleep, his body moving with Drugum’s quiet snickering.

* * *

 

 

The morning came, and with it a lack of warmth in Taenth’s bed. He opened an eye as his groping didn’t find more than a pillow in his arms, and sat up grudgingly.

Of course the scoundrel would just leave after having his way, Taenth thought. The man had been incredibly slippery for months, it wasn’t a bit of how’s your father that was going to make a difference.

But oh, what a bit of how’s your father it was. And now that Drugum had staked his claim on him, Taenth wouldn’t rest before returning the favor.

He lied back again, smiling as he planned.


	3. Catch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah so just like everything else this doesn't have update dates set up or anything, my muse is rebellious. But sometimes she comes by.

Searching for the Outcast was an unsurprisingly difficult task, and the need for discretion made it harder – Taenth was quite aware that if people knew what he was after the scandal would reach the Red Court by the next day, so it took him a week to come up with a plan.

The plan was simple: since Taenth was soon to rise as Red Triumvir, he wished to know the city he would help rule, and its inhabitants, in depth, and for that, he’d walk around the city and meet people.

This he said to his uncle Goroth, the current Red Triumvir, who squinted skeptically at him.

“You mean to tell me that you’ll be leaving the adventuring so that you can know what the people want from you when you ascend,” he said, and Taenth gave him a large smile, “because all of a sudden you grew a conscience.”

“Well, I am going to be behind that desk someday,” Taenth replied, smile in place – the Triumvir, unlike most rulers, didn’t have a throne room. Instead, they either received petitions at the chancery sitting at a long table, or at their own private offices behind their desks, to drive the point of their duty being to the general public across.

Goroth’s thick red eyebrows came together in a frown.

“Very well. Woe unto you if you cause me any trouble, though.”

* * *

 

 

“You’re going to what?” Venia asked, horrified.

“Stop adventuring,” Taenth repeated. “Theoretically.”

Her eyes narrowed, and he tapped the side of his nose.

“Technically, I’m on the hunt for a very… elusive creature, one I saw up close just once.”

Her eyes widened.

“No!”

He gave her a smug smirk.

“Yes.”

She grabbed the collar of his armor and bent him down to her level.

“Who? How? Where? When? Hmmm, we shouldn’t talk here,” she rabbled, and teleported them to her room, before letting him go and perching on her bed, where she hugged one of her pillows. “Tell me EVERYTHING.”

* * *

 

 

Drugum scratched his ear again.

“Ye knows what that means, don’t ye, some busybody’s talking ‘bout ye,” his brother Maten said in a cheeky tone.

“Shut up and hold the beast tight, we’re filthy enough as we are,” Drugum replied as he went back to hacking the prized stallion’s head off.

They had left this heavy chore for last; it would not do to murder the humans with tired, trembling arms, especially in an enormous job like this one.

Mister Rollins had had only one competitor in the massive Emberholm wheat trade. When Mister Mortimer had decided to move into the city with his prized stallion, family, staff and wheat processing facility, all the way from the Black kingdom, Mister Rollins had obviously been displeased.

Naturally, things being as they were, the Outcast had been the last measure to resolve the feud. And resolved it was: not a soul was left alive in the property. The bodies had been butchered as per the description they had received, and the prized stallion’s head was to be delivered as proof of the deed.

Mister Rollins hoped, he had said, that the unfortunate end of Mister Mortimer’s line would serve as a warning to others who would wish to meddle in his market.

The deed done, they packed the head in a large satchel and moved to the horse through, where they washed themselves.

“So are ye gonna tell me what ye been doin’ or what?”

Drugum scowled at his older brother.

“No.”

“Fine. But know this, little brother, if ye bother the Kin and they start messin’ with us…”

“I know. ‘m not doin’ nothing.”

And he hadn’t done anything, at least since that night. He had at first been terrified out of his wits at what he had done, but after a few days with none of what passed for the city guard asking about, he had settled back in his routine.

Which was why he was caught by surprise before dawn, a fortnight later, as he and Maten went into the city to buy supplies for their clan.

The guard let them pass through grudgingly. Outcasts were hated, but their money wasn’t, so they were able to get whatever supplies they couldn’t make do without and couldn’t craft themselves, as long as they made their business before sunrise on the end of the week, before the rest of the city woke.

The merchants knew that, and pushed their worst merchandise on the Outcast without batting an eye, at the makeshift street market the poorest citizens of Emberholm bought the cheapest leftovers from the regular trade, in the aptly named Rubbish Alley, right left from the Upper East gate.

They stopped their cart at the mouth of the alley and pulled out the rough sacks to store their purchases in, their meager budget shared evenly between them.

“Don’t forget to get some extra beans, last time half the sack was weevils,” Maten said quietly, and he nodded before moving to the other end of the alley.

He was busy checking a stack of old clothes when the clatter of armored steps put him on edge. It wasn’t often that the guards bothered them, especially since the Unburdened had stopped coming – Drugum still felt hate coiling in his gut every time he remembered how the guards had forced Etha to bare her scar of Unburdening, and how the merchants had laughed when the guards had joked about her being less of a woman for that.

It had taken Etha herself beat him up into a pulp to take any ideas of revenge out of his mind.

He sighed as the steps neared, and stepped back, putting his hands over the clothes, opening his legs slightly and lowering his head. The merchant gasped, and he rolled his eyes. Why make this even more uncomfortable by pretending they didn’t participate in the mockery?

“Muh… Muh… Milord Taenth, what a surprising honor…”

Drugum’s eyes opened so wide he was afraid they’d pop out.

“Yes, yes. A bird told me about this early market and I became quite curious about it,” Taenth said in his deep, booming voice, and Drugum felt cold sweat bloom on his face, despite trying desperately to tell himself that this was only a coincidence, nothing would come of it, the Red wouldn’t even recognize him…

“So, what are you purchasing, my good man?” Taenth said in his ear, bending over his shoulder as if the pile of threadbare linens and old leathers was something fascinating.

“Milord shouldn’t waste your time with this sort,” a guard said in a disgusted voice, and Drugum tensed.

“Yes, Milord might get sick standing around vermin like him,” another guard said, and the merchant in front of Drugum pulled the stack of clothes away from him.

“Please move along, we have nothing for you today,” the merchant said in an angry tone, and Drugum raised his hands in defeat, his teeth grinding in humiliated rage.

“I do not recall giving anyone leave to tell me who I should address,” he heard Taenth say from behind him, and the Red Dragonkin briefly put a hand on his shoulder. “Also I might be a bit behind in terms of fashion, what with spending my time protecting the realm from monsters and such up to now, but even I can understand that the purpose of a garment is to protect one from the cold, something your merchandise would fail to do,” Taenth completed, pulling a sock out of a basket and putting it on one of his hands, a finger poking out through one of its holes. “Wouldn’t you agree, Mister…” he prompted, looking straight at Drugum’s white-stricken face.

“Excuse-me, excuse-me, there you are,” Maten said negotiating his way through the crowd that had been forming around them, “Apologies, Milord Red, for any inconvenience… brother, tis time we got back home to our _sick mother_ , right?” he pleaded, grabbing Drugum’s arm.

 Only the strength of his grip and the message tapped by his fingers showed Maten’s fury, but they were enough to break the spell freezing Drugum in place.

“Yes…” he mumbled, and gave a clumsy bow along with his brother, before beginning to retreat.

“Hm. I’m afraid that won’t do. Yes, it won’t do at all,” Taenth said, hand flashing back to hold Drugum’s shoulder, and the crowd took a couple of steps back, while the guards sidled next to the huddling brothers, smugness pouring off as they unsheathed their swords.

“After the embarrassment I’ve put you through I’d think the least I could do was offer you some breakfast, I believe,” Taenth said in his haughtiest tone, and stretched up to his full ridiculous size, looking down his nose at the guards. “Men, put away your weapons, what will my guests think? Please accompany me, the University isn’t far,” he said, firmly turning the brothers to walk in front of him towards his carriage.

Drugum felt his stomach drop, and shuffled forward in a daze, Maten frantically tapping all the ways he’d kill him afterwards (from strangling him with his own intestines to slowly roasting him over an open fire) on one arm, and Taenth’s strong hand over his other shoulder.

The carriage driver gave them an almost comically horrified look, which he schooled quickly, and the brothers boarded the carriage as if they were stepping onto the gallows, sitting huddled and cow-handed on one side while the future Red Triumvir sat across from them with one of the guards.

It was obvious to Taenth now that Drugum’s brother was the brains of the outfit. He was both much shorter and leaner, with smart, beady eyes that hid under deep eyebrows and what Drugum’s nose would be if it hadn’t been broken, plus a thicker mop of brown hair – no red undertones on it, either.

The short ride went on uneventfully, with Taenth using his time mostly to study the two brothers, who huddled in quiet across from him.

“Please do not worry, I mean you no harm,” Taenth told them. “I am Taenth the Red, to be named the next Red Triumvir of this city, and recent events have made me believe I must engage the people in this city to better understand its workings,” he said regally, and winked, almost imperceptively, at Drugum.

‘Did he _wink_ at ye? He _winked_ at ye! Oh ye sauce-box, _what_ did ye do?’ Maten tapped into his arm, and Drugum gave him a sheepish, side-eyed look.

“Yes milord,” Maten said humbly.

“I take it you’re Outcast. Am I right?” Taenth asked, and the brothers shrunk even further into themselves, nodding.

"Oh, here we are!"

 

* * *

 

 

Since the city revolved around the University and its leaders were also involved in it, instead of a formal City Hall Emberholm dealt with its monthly petitions and grievances in a small two-story house at the entrance of the University where the Triumvir convened for the most important decisions and meetings, whereas the smaller matters were dealt in the city’s forum, a large structure southeast of the city that housed the city guard, the legal courts and the gallows.

The brothers took their caps off as they entered the building, and stayed quiet as Taenth called a servant and quietly instructed her, before moving along a corridor.

He showed them into the archives room, and sat behind the desk in its corner.

They stood, quietly, across from him.

“Please, sit down,” Taenth said amicably.

Drugum had never been terrified in his life. Scared, yes, of course, but terrified, no. Except now. He sat quietly on the velvet-covered chair, perfectly conscious of Maten’s attention on him.

“So, what should I call you gentlemen?” Taenth asked with the most innocent look in his eyes, and Drugum wanted to beat the shit out of him.

Maten cleared his throat.

“I am Maten,” he began, and gave Taenth a long, considering look. “And I am of the Forsaken, same as me brother Drugum here. And we wasn’t doing nothing wrong, milord, just buying supplies with the little coin we’ve got.”

“Hmmm. I have heard rumors on how you earn your coin. You are sellswords, I gather?”

The brothers exchanged a side-eyed look.

“Uh, sort of, milord,”

“We’re assassins. And sometimes we steal things. But only if we’re paid to, we don’t steal for ourselves. It ain’t right. And we don’t murder for free, either, unless they gonna kill us or hurt us. Life ain’t ours to take away,” Drugum interrupted, giving Taenth an angry look.

“But, but, we only do it cos nobody gives us no honest work, milord. I swear, we ain’t bad people,” Maten completed, his skin the color of fresh cheese.

Taenth leaned over, resting his chin on his hands, fascinated.

“If it’s not yours to take away, why accept money to do just that?”

Maten sighed, and lowered his head.

“Because we need to eat, milord, and if we don’t do it, bad folk will, and with no care for them who die. They’ll burn a house with livin’ people in it, or torture ‘em, or rape ‘em, or do a botch job o’ it and leave ‘em alive, but broken, wi’ no use or respite from sufferin’, like they do for free on their own time. And we’ll still be hunted down if we’re seen anywhere out o’ Rubbish Alley market anyway, cos we’re Outcast, we don’t need do nothin’ to be hated. If tis all we can do to survive, at least we can be proper about it.”

“Hmmm. Do any of you have any skills besides that?”

“Yes, milord. We make our own armor and weapons.”

“Blacksmithing, then? Leatherworking? Where do you get the materials?”

Drugum cleared his throat.

“We hunt and cure the skins. And for the weapons we buy scraps o' metal and reuse our own. Tis not cheap, but I make better than what the city blacksmiths have got,” he said with a touch of pride. “We need to move about, what with havin’ no land or lot to stay on, so we can’t plant nothin’ but herbs, so we buy what we can’t do without at the market, milord.”

Taenth knew they weren’t lying; the information he had showed that indeed, the Outcast were hardly ever seen into the city, and petty thefts were committed by a troublesome handful of Emberholm’s own citizens. The city had, as any large dwelling, its own share of wrongful deaths, but for the most part they were the product of brawls and feuds, easy for the city guard to solve. The ones that weren’t were blamed on the Outcast, and on the exceedingly rare occasion one of them was caught (Taenth had only ever heard of a couple of cases) in the city beyond the market, they had been summarily executed.

A servant came in pushing a cart, and quietly parked it beside Taenth’s table, before leaving.

Taenth had to hold a chuckle in at the brothers’ faces. They stared, not at the tea or milk or meats and cheese, but at the bread – a beer and barley loaf, a round pumpernickel, a spiced pumpkinseed, wheat and cumin buns – and their stomachs rumbled in unison.

“Let me guess, you have no ovens,” he said.

“Um, no, milord, we ain’t got ‘em, cos we move so much. And we ain’t got much time to eat, mostly, so well, yeah, we mostly eat our grain as gruel,” Drugum explained quietly, one eye on the bread.

“Tis my honor to share this meal with you, then,” Taenth said, and gave each a plate and a mug. “I believe we can help ourselves quite well, so please, take whatever you want.”

He watched as the brothers ate, slowly and appreciatively, tasting some of each bread, but sparing the dairy. It made sense; if they couldn’t bake bread they obviously couldn’t have a herd to get milk from, either.

“If I were to ask you to work for this city when I’m Triumvir, would you accept it?”

The brothers shared a look, and frowned at him.

“Milord, we don’t need no charity. We’re poor, we’re Outcast, but we don’t bow to no man either,” Maten said in an affronted tone.

“You misunderstand me,” Taenth said in a placating tone. “You have skills that can be used for the good of my city, and with my backing your social standing can improve. Not much, I’m sorry to say, but at least you’d be able to buy at the regular markets where you won’t be so blatantly, if I may say it, swindled out of your hard-earned coin.”

“We ain’t tellin’ ye who buys our services,” Drugum warned.

“As far as I can presume most of your services are to settle commercial and family disputes amongst the wealthy. I do not care about that. What I care about is having people who will truly investigate and find the criminals that make everyday life a bother for most of the people; those ‘bad folk’, as you aptly named them. Especially since the city guard has the unfortunate tendency of not meddling with that sort of people.”

Maten gave him a long, considering look.

“I can see why ye fancies ‘im,” Maten said, addressing his brother, and smirked at Taenth. “No offense, but are ye doing all this to get into me little brother’s pants,” he gave Drugum a sharp look, “again?”

Taenth laughed, disarmed by Maten’s frankness and Drugum’s horrified expression as he went beet-red.

“Well,” he said, and chuckled, “at first, maybe? But only the part where I started getting more involved with the city life. As I gathered the reality of what was needed to perform my future task I did begin to see that the Outcast can be quite useful to Emberholm, and well, it never hurts to be in good terms with the family of your intended,” he explained, looking straight at Drugum.

Drugum’s eyes widened, and his face darkened further as Maten laughed out loud.

“I reckon we should inform our Ma of yer proposal, tho tis still far the day ye’d be in power to pay us,” he said, standing, and then scowled. “Tho she’ll have our hides for not buyin’ what we were sent for. Eh, I’ll just tell ‘er tis yer intended’s fault, she’ll lose sight o’ me in the commotion.”

Taenth rose as well, and shook hands with him, satisfied.

“Please do not forget your cart when you leave, the guards will have kept it safe,” he said, and made as if to accompany them out.

“Thank ye, milord. No need to walk us out, we have our own ways around the city,” Maten said. “I’ll be tellin’ ye what the clan decides ‘bout yer offer soon. For what’s worth, I’d be happy to work with ye.”

Taenth bowed at him, and smiled quietly at Drugum’s quietly impressed look.

* * *

 

A couple of days later, Taenth walked to his quarters slowly so not to jostle the bundle with food and a wine skin he had got from the kitchens on his way home, having been working so late that supper time had been long gone when he arrived at the main University building.

He’d have to give Ms. Muffet’s scullery maids a pay raise when he ascended, he thought as he stopped in front of his door, when he was suddenly pushed against it.

He smiled as he felt strong, large hands moving around his waist, under his coat.

“I’ve got some more bread with me, if that’s what you came for,” he whispered, and moaned when one hand reached his crotch.

“Open the door, ye impossible git,” Drugum growled, and Taenth pushed back until he could open the magical lock.

“I thought you could get into wherever you wanted whenever you wanted,” Taenth said as the door opened, noticed the fire was lit and carefully put the food on the table before turning around.

“Oh,” he breathed as Drugum lay naked on his bed, his cock in one hand and his torso propped up on his other arm.

“I did,” Drugum said. “Except ye took so long I decided to check what was going on.”

“You went after me like that?” Taenth asked as he undressed, hypnotized by the hand slowly working over Drugum’s cock.

“Wasn’t like anyone’d see me.”

Taenth leaned over him for a kiss, and batted his chilly hand away.

“My turn to play with it,” he breathed, and lowered his head.

Drugum let out a huge gasp, his eyes going as wide as soup plates, as the Red prince swallowed his cock to the hilt.

“Holy dragons,” he breathed and came, his back arching with the pleasure as he felt Taenth swallow.

Taenth finished licking his lips and gave him a terribly smug grin. “Why, I know I’m good, but I didn’t think you’d compliment me this fast,” he said, and Drugum snorted.

“Well, tis not every day ye get yer cock sucked by a prince,” he said breathlessly. “I thought ye nobs didn’t do this sort o’ thing, what with, ye know, ye bein’ royalty and all?”

“Well, not usually, no, but I thought you wouldn’t mind me warming you up and having a taste, what with not being royalty and all,” Taenth answered. “Besides, I’m not really that traditional, you might have noticed up to now,” he purred, crawling over to kiss Drugum’s lips and eliciting a delicious whine out of him. “Are you still willing for this? I can wait,” he said, kissing down his neck.

“Mmm. I can’t,” Drugum said, and with a powerful movement switched their positions. “Got meself ready and all, and I’ll bet ye never had this done to ye, milord,” he said, pushing himself up and lowering slowly on Taenth’s cock. “So ye don’t really have to do anythin’, just watch.”

And watch Taenth did, feeling the strange and arousing difference in temperature of Drugum’s chilly skin and hot insides, as he began to move his hips back and forth, his eyes pinning Taenth to the bed in a way he could only surrender.

“Ye looks good from up here, Red boy,” Drugum said, and Taenth mumbled something incoherent.

Honestly, he was in no state to think right then. And he stayed in said state until a good few minutes after they both came, just sprawled on the bed, completely defeated.

* * *

 

 

“Ye should’ve seen yer face when ye came,” Drugum said between chuckles, later, as they ate naked in bed. “Seemed as if ye were a virgin, I’m almost feelin’ guilty here.”

Taenth gave him a long look while chewing, and then shrugged.

“Twas good. And you didn’t look like twasn’t, so I guess I satisfied you as well,” he said pointedly, before shoving the last bite of his sandwich in his mouth and wiping his hands off the crumbs on the cloth he had brought the food in.

To his immense satisfaction, Drugum blushed, and harrumphed.

In the morning, again, Taenth woke to an empty bed. This time, though, there was a note on the pillow next to him.

_‘Meet by the same gate in two days for Ma’s answer. Come unarmed, after sundown. D.’_

Taenth whooped.


End file.
